Dress for success. Put on your tall hat and rubber gloves and long, gray coat. Success requires this specific outfit. Welcome to Night Vale.

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It's Spring again, which apparently means it's baseball season. My brother-in-law, Steve [long inhale and exhale; like a regimented breathing exercise] Steve and I took his step-daughter Janice for little league baseball tryouts this weekend.

Steve and Janice play catch a lot together. She really loves the sport. It's actually pretty adorable. She shouts things like "go farther Steve. I want to see how far I can throw the ball." And I shout things like "Keep going Steve. See how far away you can go."

The tryouts were at the haunted baseball diamond over near the Shambling Orphan Housing Development. There were a lot of kids there. Say what you will about all the people from Desert Bluffs moving to Night Vale, and I’ve said many things, but it's created enormous growth in youth sports. There are leagues for kids with all kinds of interests and abilities.

Janice tried out for a wheelchair softball league - the first of its kind in Night Vale. Plus I got to spend time talking to little league baseball coaches Betty Lucero and Lusia Tereshchenko. Lusia is a fascinating woman. So despite having to be around Steve all day, I had a pretty good time. More on that in a bit, but first the news.

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In a study released today, the Greater Night Vale Medical Community has found a statistical link between a high-carbohydrate diet and the number of squirrels on your lawn.

According to the study, they found that people who take in a higher-than-normal number of carbohydrates have an average of 4.74 squirrels somewhere on their lawn. But those with lower carb intake have a slightly different number of squirrels.

A representative from the Greater Night Vale Medical Community said "You can see from this pie chart," and here the representative pointed at an American flag, "that the data shows a statistical link between these things."

Another representative, who was previously unnoticed, then emerged from behind the first representative and stated "It is important that you adjust your carbohydrate intake and/or your trust-slash-distrust of squirrels accordingly." The first representative then did a set of 12 pushups - the kind where you clap your hands between each one.

"Believe us. We are doctors," a third representative said, as she lowered herself down, head first from the ceiling at the back of the room. As everyone turned to see her, she said "Just kidding!" And then the three representatives began juggling and doing yo-yo tricks to hip-hop music.

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And now it's time for another edition of Hey There Cecil.

"Hey there, Cecil. I just moved into a new apartment and after 2 months, my landlord is telling me I'm behind on rent. But I've been paying my rent. On the last day of each month, I carry a 20 stone bag of quartz chips and two pheasant carcasses and lay them outside his office. What am I doing wrong? Also, what is the currency these days? Signed: IN DEBT IN OLD TOWN"

Hey there, In Debt. Well, I think you're in the wrong here. Quartz and dead pheasants are not currency. They have not been legal tender since the 1990s, so you are in arrears on your rent. Here's what I would do. Write a nice note to your landlord explaining you didn't understand how money works. Then maybe find a different job where they pay you in actual American currency, which has no physical form and is just a series of arbitrary numbers printed on ATM receipts. Hope this helps.

"Hey there, Cecil. I love dogs a lot. The other day, I saw a young couple out walking the cutest little beagle puppy. I asked if I could pet him. They didn't say anything, but the dog had the sweetest expression. So I pet the dog. The couple didn't speak or move. She just glared at me. The boy was smiling. And as the dog licked my hand, I asked the boy, "What's your dog's name?" and the boy laughed. It was a cruel, hollow laugh. And I pet the dog once more and they left. And I can't get that dog out of my head. I'm now dreaming about it. Terrible dreams. Terrible dreams where I cannot move. I wake, physically incapacitated and crying. When I can finally move, I run to the bathroom needing to vomit but unable. I am covered in cold cold sweat but my face is on fire. I hunch over the sink spitting up small globs of black tar. Every single night. So my question is: should I get a dog? And if so, is a beagle a good breed? Signed: DOG LOVER IN DOWNTOWN"

Hey there, Dog Lover. You should absolutely get a dog. You sound allergic to beagles, so maybe a basset instead.

"Hey there, Cecil. What are you doing Saturday night, at say, 8pm? Would you be interested in an opera and drinks after? Signed: LONELY BOY IN THE LABORATORY

Hey there, LONELY BOY. Yes. I would very much like an opera and whatever else after.

#####

And now back to the tryouts. Coach Lusia Tereshchenko told me she's been seeing more and more of those Strangers lately. She does not like them. "They stand and they stare at the kids, at the coaches, at the parents. Just breathing, not moving or speaking. Them, I do not like," Lusia said. "At first I thought they were from this Desert Bluffs. So many of those people coming to Night Vale. But Desert Bluffs families play in the baseball league now. I meet them. They are nice people. They are good people. They do not stand and stare and breathe." Lusia said.

"These strangers. They are from someplace else. Not here. Not Desert Bluffs. They are not humans. They are not even ghosts. Believe me. I should know," Lusia said and then laughed. "Get it, because I am dead?"

I told Lusia I got it. But she continued, "I'm dead, Cecil. It's funny. Laugh, okay? I'm a ghost."

And so I laughed. It was genuinely funny. But then she went suddenly solemn: "Oh, these Strangers they remind me of those terrible men on the train."

I asked Lusia, "what men on the train?" But just then an errantly thrown baseball bounced to a stop at Lusia's feet. She bent over to pick it up, but being a ghost, her hands went right through it.

"Ah, Cecil, some days I can pick up the ball, some days I cannot. Will you help?"

I picked up the baseball and threw it back to the child who nearly fell over running but caught it nonetheless.

And Lusia said, "You still have a good arm, Cecil. You were a great short stop."

I told her I don't remember playing baseball, and she laughed and said "Well, you know what they say about growing old? Memory is the second thing to go."

I asked "what's the first?"

"Relevance," she said quickly. "Relevance."

#####

Listeners, sorry I have to interrupt my story. We're getting another call from Hiram McDaniels, literal 5-headed dragon and former mayoral candidate. Hiram is in the jailhouse for attempting to kill our current mayor. And he’s on our phones now. Hiram. Hello.

VIOLET: Cecil, it's me, Hiram's violet head.

CECIL: Hello Violet. Listeners, it was Hiram's violet head who courageously turned in his other four heads for their crimes against the mayor. Violet how are you?

VIOLET: They cut a hole in the cell where our main body and other four heads are. My head is poking out of the hole into the fresh air. Technically I am not in jail, but I am also not free. I think I have made a mistake.

CECIL: You did the right thing, Violet. Your other four heads wanted to kill the mayor.

VIOLET: There are five of us, but there is one of us.

CECIL: I'm not sure I follow.

VIOLET: “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes."

CECIL: AH! My favorite line from Die Hard.

VIOLET: Cecil, I have removed myself as a witness for the prosecution. I stand with my other heads. I stand with and for myself.

GOLD: And it sure is nice to have you back, purp.... I'm sorry. You are not purple. You are violet. I respect that.

VIOLET: Thanks, gold head.

GRAY: Injustice makes me sad.

GOLD: We're gonna do our best, gray. We're going to do our best.

GREEN: WE WILL BURN THE COURTHOUSE. WE WILL DEVOUR THE JUDGE. WE WILL CRUSH THE JURY WITH OUR TAIL.

BLUE: They are shackling and muzzling us for our own trial, Cecil. They think our green head is serious in his threats.

GREEN: MY THREATS ARE ONLY METAPHORS, YOU SOFT SENTIENT POUCHES OF FUTURE FOOD!

VIOLET: Cecil. I cannot be separated from myself. I may disagree with myself, but I am all in this together.

CECIL: Violet, I -

GOLD: But, listen Cecil, if Night Vale knew the trouble they were in, they'd let us out so we could help fight these Strangers.

CECIL: Oh believe me, Hiram. The new sheriff is working double time to get rid of the Desert Bluffs p-

GOLD: Not Desert Bluffs people, Cecil. They're harmless, hardworking folks. I'm talking about the Strangers. The ones that don’t move. The ones that breathe. You tell your mayor friend I can stop them.

GRAY: We're not strong enough.

BLUE: They would be quite resistant to our fire and even our strength.

GREEN: WE WILL TEAR THE STRANGERS TO PINK FLESHY SHREDS AND THEN CHEW THEM AND THEN SWALLOW THEM. I AM BEING LITERAL.

VIOLET: I will fight with you green. You too gold and gray and blue. We could do this. But, Cecil, we need out of this prison.

CECIL: I don’t know what I can do about that, Hiram.

GOLD: I’m sure you’ll think of something. We’re gonna make it through this. Thanks, buddy.

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Well then, let’s have a word from our sponsor.

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Dove. Lungs on a white table.

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Little league coach Lusia Tereshchenko told me the incredible story of her journey to Night Vale. When she was a young woman she left her home to travel west across America. She wanted to find a new life for herself out of the crowded, smoke-choked cities. She walked for miles, picking up work in roadside towns. She rode in carriages when she had money. She eventually found a job, making belts, for an old tanner, who worked Lusia long hours for little pay. The old tanner was otherwise kind and treated Lusia like her very own daughter, because she never had a family. But, the tanner grew ill, and Lusia took care of her, bathing her and fetching herb mixtures from the apothecary.

One morning the old woman was no more. Lusia ran her business for a while longer but since the tanner had no heirs, and Lusia did not feel she had found her true home, she continued west where there was supposedly golden sunshine along an azure sea.

Soon, however, she once again was in desperate need of money, so that she could eat, and could sleep in safety. She met some men, silent men. Men who kept their faces in shadows. Who kept their voices in shadows. Who kept their guns in shadows. And she worked for them, never knowing what her work was, just that she was to ride the train with them until the time was right.

One afternoon, the men stood up simultaneously and moved in different directions. One to the front of the train, one to the rear. One climbed through the ceiling onto the roof of the car. Two more drew pistols on the passengers. They told Lusia to keep everyone calm.

The train whined to a halt, and the men hurriedly unloaded crates from the rear car onto a horse-drawn cart. The crates were warm, warmer than the air around them. They smelled sharp and earthy, like freshly ground cinnamon.

The apparent sheriff of the little town they stopped in, the town of Night Vale - a place she’d never heard of - soon arrived. He was wearing a welding mask and a cowboy hat. The sheriff drew his gun on the shadowy men. But being outnumbered, he was unable to do much to stop them.

So while calming the others on the train, Lusia crept behind one of the men. He had a kerchief drawn across his face. Not an actual kerchief tied in front of his face. But a simulacrum of patterned fabric hand-drawn on his face. Using one of her leather belts, Lusia whipped the gun out of his hand and deftly picked it up from the ground. She fired at the outlaws, felling both. Outside, the Sheriff felled two more.

But as she climbed up to the top of the car, she heard a shot from just below her, and then she was lying on her back. She couldn’t remember why she had laid down. She saw, in the sky just above her, a dark planet of awesome size, lit by no sun. She didn’t know how she had not noticed it before. It was so close. An invisible titan, all thick black forests and jagged mountains and deep, turbulent oceans.

And then… Well, let me take you first, to the weather.

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WEATHER: "The River, The Woods" Astronautalis

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I asked Lusia if that's how she died. "Well, one moment I’m in a gunfight,” she said, “and the next moment I'm a ghost." She asked if I had a cigarette. I don't smoke, so I said no. "I couldn't hold it anyway,” she admitted.

Why are you living in a baseball diamond, I asked her.

She said this wasn't always a baseball diamond. It was just a field. A field where train tracks used to run. A field where a train once rolled to a stop. But right around this time, the game of baseball was becoming popular, and kids began coming to the field to play. Lusia watched and learned and grew to love the sport’s simplicity and structured grace.

"It's a beautiful game, Cecil. So I started trying to coach the kids, but since I'm translucent and hazy, they got scared and ran away, calling this the haunted baseball diamond. Over time, the kids realized I had some helpful things to say about batting stances and hitting the cutoff man, so they came back." Lusia turned to one of the kids. "Eye on the ball, Manny!" she shouted.

I asked Lusia, "so you think those men on the train were related to these strangers in Night Vale now?"

"You do not see evil like that very often,” she said. “But no. Those men on the train performed their evil because they needed whatever was in those crates more than they needed life or peace,” she said. “These Strangers. They don't need anything. They are evil for evil’s own sake.”

I looked over and saw Steve and Janice coming my way. They were high-fiving and grinning.

Lusia said "She's a good kid. Good arm. She's gonna be a great shortstop like her uncle."

I told Lusia I hope we have a good baseball season and it was wonderful catching up with her. Steve, Janice and I turned to walk back to Steve’s van.

Lusia whispered to me: "We’re past time for hope, Cecil. They're no longer coming. They’re here, and we cannot stop something that wants nothing."

Staring straight at Janice, ignoring Lusia, I said "You made the team! Congrats. Let’s get ice cream."

Behind us I heard a distant bark. It was a sweet, sickening yelp. And in the reflection on the van window I could see a boy in a hoodie holding a beagle puppy and both of them were looking at us. I felt cold sweat but my face was hot. My tongue was sticky and thick.

"Steve, can we get a dog?" Janice said, all strapped in.

"Let's go get that ice cream, okay?" I interrupted.

The dog barked again, and I did not look. I did not look at anything as I got in my seat and shut the door. I felt like throwing up.

“Thanks for driving, Steve,” I said, putting my hand softly on his arm. He looked momentarily amused. No, not amused. Concerned. And we drove away as Janice told us all about her new team.

Stay tuned next for something lurking just outside your window. Don't worry. It's not a human.

And as always, good night, Night Vale. Good Night.

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PROVERB: Dance like the government is watching.